Until We Reach a Parting of the Ways
by Dragovian Knight
Summary: Dragon Quest VIII. An AngeloxJessica vignette, set after the final boss battle but before the end of the game.


_The cave was cold, but outside is worse, with the wind whipping through her clothing, sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her teeth chatter. She wraps her arms around herself and tries to stay in the scant shelter provided by the wagon, letting the others worry about finding their way through this white wasteland._

_A blue cloak drops onto her shoulders without warning, startling her; she jumps and turns to see Angelo close behind her, a half smile on his lips at her reaction._

_"Warmer?" he asks, and his tone is smug and insufferable enough that she considers throwing the blessedly warm garment off and telling him to mind his own business. Luckily, before she can react, the wind catches the heavy cloth, and she grabs at it reflexively, wrapping it more tightly around her. Still wearing that small smile, Angelo fastens the clasp at her throat. "It's fortunate at least one of us was paying attention back in Arcadia."_

_"Thank you," she says when he steps back, because the cloak nearly reaches the ground, and it's thick enough to block the wind, and she's just noticed he's shivering, too, even with his heavy uniform to protect him. "But I can't..."_

_"Of course you can; I'm fine." His attempt to dismiss her concern is ruined by the shudder which runs through him as the wind whips his hair about his face, and his tone is softer, more honest, when he continues, "I could hardly wear it in good conscience, knowing there was a lady in far greater need." _

_"At least share," she offers, opening the cloak toward him._

_He shakes his head, stubbornly wrapping the cloth snug around her again. "I'd rather you were warm, than both of us freezing just a bit less." But he falls into step beside her, and she moves closer to him than she would normally allow, hoping to impart at least a little warmth._

_They're still side by side, nearly touching, when the avalanche hits._

* * *

Jessica folded the cloak carefully. She'd always meant to return it, but after Orkutsk things had gotten complicated so quickly; it must have been forgotten in the back of the wagon, until the servants had brought it up with her things. 

She hesitated only a moment, remembering the harsh words with which she and Angelo had parted the night before, then hurried out of her room.

She feared he'd already left Trodain when he didn't answer her knock at his door; her mind had already skipped ahead to the question of how - and whether - she could catch up to him when he finally yanked the door open with an impatient, "Dear Goddess, what...Oh. Jessica."

For a moment, she couldn't speak. He must have still been packing; he certainly wasn't ready to travel, with his uniform jacket off and his hair spilling loose over his dark shirt.

He turned his back on her, but left the door open as he returned to his pack, and she followed him, closing the door softly. He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her, but the stiffness of his movements told her he was painfully aware of her presence.

"I'm glad you hadn't left yet," she said finally, when the silence was too thick to bear.

"Think of some insults you missed last night?"

"I found your cloak among my things." She shook the fabric and held it up, half in explanation, half as a barrier between them. "I wanted to give it back."

"Keep it," Angelo said shortly. "Or be rid of it, if you'd rather. I bought it for you."

"I don't..."

"The loan was...a pretense." He abandoned his things and began to pace; she suspected it was so he could avoid looking at her. "I didn't buy it in Arcadia; I bought it in Argonia, back when we thought things would be as simple as defeating Dhoulmagus and retrieving the scepter. I thought...I intended..." He faltered, and she could almost see him sorting through lies for the most plausible. "I intended to give it to you when we parted, as a remembrance. Only we didn't part under quite the circumstances I'd envisioned, and after...well, after, I realized you'd never accept a gift from me anyway. " He stopped, and forced a smile. "And so, I loaned it to you, and hoped it would make it back to Alexandria."

"You bought it for me," she said softly. "As a remembrance."

"Had I bought it for myself, it would have matched my uniform." He shrugged, and turned away. "I grant it seemed a better idea before you made it clear you'd rather you hadn't met me."

"I never said that!"

"Not in so many words. But your meaning was quite clear."

She studied his rigid back, then looked down at the cloak in her hands. "That wasn't what I _meant_, either," she murmured, and draped the cloak over a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry." His voice was sharp, and she wondered if he realized how poorly he was concealing his emotions. "I didn't quite catch that."

He still wasn't looking at her, but that was all right; perhaps it was better. "I said, I don't want it as a remembrance," she said, crossing the distance between them. His shoulders jerked just a bit at what he must have perceived as an insult, then again when she set her palms flat against them, and rested her cheek against his back.

He didn't say anything, just exhaled slowly.

"I don't want any remembrance," she continued, "because I want you."

He shook his head, hair brushing her face. "That's...very hard to believe, Jessica."

"Nearly as hard to believe as you buying me that cloak to remember you by," she returned, and noted distantly that her voice had taken on the same choked quality as his. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead a little harder against his back. "Tell me the truth about it?"

Another long exhale, an even longer pause. "I overheard you talking to Eight. Telling him you thought you'd like to travel when things were finished." He made a sound that she thought was intended as a laugh. "I'd heard tales of a land where winter never loosed its grip, and I had the mad idea to give you the cloak and ask you to come with me to see if the tales were true." That sound again; her hands tightened on his shoulders. "As I said, nothing happened quite the way I planned."

"Nothing happened the way _any_ of us planned."

"No," he agreed, "nothing did."

"Including last night." She held on tighter; one of his hands moved up, fingertips brushing fingertips. "I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean them."

"Yes, you did."

He knew her distressingly well. "Perhaps. At the time." She circled around him, because this she needed to say face to face. "But you didn't deserve them, and I hope you can forgive me."

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Some of them, I deserved." He captured her hand; he wasn't wearing his gloves, and his skin was distractingly warm against hers, but it was his eyes that held her. "And I'd forgive you far worse."

"You may have to. There's still a lot of the world we haven't seen, you know."

"You're not...not the only one guilty of regrettable behavior. Think you'd be able to tolerate me past Farebury?" he asked, but he wore a true smile, now.

Her free hand curved around the back of his neck. "I'd like to find out."

His head bent toward hers, and for once, things went exactly as planned.


End file.
